


The Impossibility of Forever

by skai_heda



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Before I Fall Fusion, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Before I Fall AU!, Bellamy Has Feelings, But fun, Character Death, F/M, Heavy Angst, Not Really Character Death, POV Clarke Griffin, POV Second Person, Tags Are Hard, before Praimfaya, i guess, not gonna use archive warnings yee, whoops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-12 01:44:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18436463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skai_heda/pseuds/skai_heda
Summary: Maybe you're dead and in hell.Maybe you're alive and in hell.It doesn't matter - regardless of anything you do or say, the day starts and ends the same.





	The Impossibility of Forever

**Author's Note:**

> haha i have no idea why i wrote this  
> set before praimfaya, before the Ark was burned.

You’re tired, but they’ll never know that.

ALIE is gone, and the world is ending, but the Ark finds itself slowly repairing relations with the Grounders and rebuilding society, and you throw yourself into finding a solution, patching up Arkadia, but also caught in the storm of the consequences of all that you’ve done.

It is a normal morning for now - for once, nothing is out of the ordinary. Not outwardly, anyway. You don’t wake with Niylah beside you - you’ve stopped having any company at night at all.

You were sleeping on our side, which is unusual, because you always lie down on your back. As you come to your senses in the early morning, you remember the last night, your anguish, your rage. You were having a fight with Bellamy, his final release of all the pent-up emotions, all bottled, accumulating from the moment you walked away from him in the aftermath of the hardest choice you’d ever made.

You hate being in a fight with Bellamy. It breaks your heart, whatever’s left of it.

You tug on the ratty ends of your blonde hair, dragging yourself out of bed and picking up the watch.

Your mother had a watch on her, too - she eventually gave it to you, and you gladly accepted it, missing the weight of Jake Griffin’s watch resting on your wrist. It wasn’t working, but Kyle Wick, Raven’s new companion, had fixed it for you, smiling his riotous, boyish smile. Wick is a sliver of sunlight among a darkening sky, like Monty, like Harper, like the few who do not look at her as a monster. The kind ones, the ones you will never, ever deserve.

You dress quickly, and it is about six thirty in the morning when you finally leave your room, and you find Bellamy walking down the corridor, also an early riser, also a restless sleeper.

You consider calling his name, just forcing yourself to act normal, but you realize that would infuriate him more.

You can’t do this anymore.

When the wave comes, perhaps you will stay outside. It is not like anyone will miss you. Not anymore.

Breakfast is a quiet affair, and one you don’t immerse yourself in. You pass the makeshift mess hall and head straight for the med bay, flexing your fingers and rolling up your sleeves. You don’t plan to be there for long - take inventory of supplies, and then begin work, overseeing the modifications of Arkadia.

You spend two hours in there, your mother arriving just as you leave.

“Did you take the night shift?” Abby asks, ever the picture of a concerned mother. Unbidden, you remember her dragging a knife down your skin.

“No,” you say, your voice emotionless and even. “Radio me if you need any help in the med bay.”

“Jackson’s helping for all of today,” Abby says, a little unnecessarily, mostly for the sake of making conversation, maybe. But it rubs you the wrong way.

“Don’t, then,” you mutter, and you leave.

To your relief, Bellamy isn’t anywhere to be seen when you step out into the chilled air, and neither is Octavia. But Raven and Wick are there, glaring at a metal scaffolding. You approach them carefully, tucking your hands into your pockets and keeping your eyes on the ground. You’re not like this, but you suppose it’s the only way you deserve to be.

“Hi, Clarke,” Wick says, shooting a furtive glance at Raven, who stares stonily at you.

“Hey,” you say softly, but you’re looking at Raven.

“What’s up?” Raven asks, just a little less hostile than usual, but you won’t let yourself think it has _anything_ to do with you.

“Nothing,” you say truthfully, ignoring all the plans and questions about the modification of Arkadia you’d had in mind. “Just seeing how everything’s coming along,” You remember Raven punching you, and all of a sudden, like a small child, you want to cry. But you hold back the tears and force yourself to look at her.

“You know what?” Raven says suddenly, looking into your eyes, and you brace yourself for some hostile comment. “Take a break today. I’ll take charge.”

You exhale, not even realizing until then that you were holding your breath. “Okay, you say in a small voice. “That sounds like a good idea.”

**~**

You arrive in med bay.

“What are you doing here?” Eric Jackson asks. His tone is not rude or accusatory, simply questioning.

“I’m just helping out here today,” you say quietly, wondering dimly where your mother is.

“Okay. Cool,” Jackson says eloquently, and the rest of the day passes in amiable silence, occasionally broken by requests and a few small sentences. It seems normal to you, and it is.

**~**

It’s midnight, and you’re cleaning up, storing things in their necessary cabinets and cleaning syringes.

Bellamy walks in, cradling his whole arm to his chest.

“Are you okay?” you ask impulsively, walking over to him. “What happened?”

“You want the list or the overview?” Bellamy snaps, thrusting a side of his body towards you. “I dislocated my shoulder.”

“How?” you ask, taking his good shoulder and guiding him to a table.

“Construction,” he says irritably, not even looking at your face. You ignore the painful tug at your heart as he sits down.

“It’s gonna hurt,” you say softly, biting your lip so hard you taste blood.

“I’m used to pain from you,” he says shortly.

You take a shaky breath and grab his dislocated shoulder. “One, two-”

You shove his shoulder back into place, and he yelps. “What happened to three?” he demands, glaring at you, and you immediately back away.

“I had to make sure you were slightly more relaxed,” you admit in a small voice, hating how childish you sound.

“Relaxed,” he spits. “Around you?”

You swallow, furtively glancing down at your watch. It’s half-past midnight.

“Why’d you come so late?” you ask.

“I was considering not coming at all, but I figured it wouldn’t be a good idea to sleep with a dislocated shoulder.”

“I’m glad you came,” you say, hoping he won’t misinterpret it. You’re purely glad that he’s just looking out for himself.

“I’m not,” he says, standing up.

It’s like a dam bursting and you can’t help it - you turn around and you run out of the Ark.

**~**

You don’t stop until you’re past the gates and holding onto a tree, breathing heavily, not quite crying yet.

You slowly sink to your knees, staring blankly at the ground.

_You are nothing._

You’re almost dozing off but then you hear the quietest rustle, and your head snaps up so fast a sharp pain hammers into the base of your skull.

Maybe it is your imagination, your delirious, half-asleep mind.

You look down at your watch. It is 1:07.

When you tilt your head back up, you see a sharp tip and then you feel a terrible piercing sensation in your chest.

You look down, and you dimly register the arrow sticking out of where your heart is, _where your heart is,_ before you crumple to the ground. 

* * *

You wake with a jolt of your body.

On your side, facing the wall, just like last night.

Your heart is racing, but then you force yourself to calm down because it was all just a dream. It was just a stupid, silly dream. You dreamed up a whole, scary day.

You get up, put on your watch, just like you did yesterday, no, _in the dream,_ and get ready for the day.

Once again, six thirty when you leave your room. Bellamy’s walking down the hall.

You blink.

Your lips part to call his name but they close again, because why would you?

Your deja vu nauseates you, so you skip breakfast and go to the med bay.

Organizing the supplies and medicine calms you just a little bit, and, of course, your mother arrives as you turn around to leave.

“Did you take the night shift?” she asks, and your breath hitches, your muscles tense.

“No,” you say, your voice surprisingly steady. All of a sudden, the desire to leave is so great it makes your head spin. “Radio me if you need any help in the med bay.”

“Jackson’s helping for all of today,” Abby says, looking like she doesn’t want you to leave regardless of what she’d just said.

“Don’t, then,” you say, your voice faltering a little, because it’s not right, and you need _air, now._

Bellamy isn’t outside, and an odd mixture of dread and relief settles in your chest. You find Raven and Wick, your feet carrying you towards them without your mind’s consent.

“Hi, Clarke,” Wick says, glancing at Raven. You swallow.

“Hey,” you say, your voice a little wobbly as you look at the other woman.

“What’s up?” Raven asks.

_Oh, nothing. I’ve been experiencing severe deja vu all day and it makes me want to throw up my internal organs._

“Nothing. Just seeing how everything’s coming along,” you breathe.

“You know what?” Raven says suddenly, stepping forward and grabbing her shoulder. “Take a break today. I’ll take charge.”

You slowly step out of her grip. “Okay,” you say. “That sounds like a good idea.”

It takes a tremendous effort not to run back into the Ark.

**~**

You slowly step into med bay, your eyes wide. If someone were to see you know, you would probably look insane.

“What are you doing here?” Jackson asks, turning around.

“I’m just helping out here today,” you say, and your voice sounds wrong, like a recording, like you’re hearing it underwater or from very far away.

“Okay. Cool,” Jackson replies.

You try not to scare your patients, so you keep the darting eyes and the shaking hands as controlled as you can, but you are certainly scaring yourself.

**~**

You are alone in the med bay a bit past midnight, cleaning a syringe.

You hear someone walk in, and you turn to see that it’s Bellamy, cradling his arm to his chest.

“Are you okay?” you ask, a habitual instinct. “What happened?”

“You want the list or the overview?” he hisses. “I-”

“Dislocated your shoulder,” you whisper, finishing his sentence with him.

Bellamy gives you an odd, searching look. “How’d you know?”

“How’d it happen?” you counter.

“Construction,” he grunts. He doesn’t look at your face.

You swallow, then bite your lip until you taste blood. The metallic taste brings you back to reality. “It’s gonna hurt.”

“I’m used to pain from you.”

You clench your jaw, grabbing his bad shoulder. “One, two-”

You shove his shoulder back into place and step back, barely hearing his yell of pain. “What happened to three?” he spits.

“I had to make sure you were relaxed,” you say, almost phrasing it like a question.

“Relaxed,” he says derisively. “Around you?”

You look at your watch. It is 12:32.

“Why’d you come so late?” you ask, the words sounding rehearsed.

“I was considering not coming at all, but I figured it wouldn’t be a good idea to sleep with a dislocated shoulder,” he says.

“I’m glad you came,” you say quietly.

“I’m not,” he replies.

That’s about the exact second you lose it, and then you run.

**~**

The forest is eerily quiet.

Sleep is far from your mind - you’re frozen in terror.

You hear a rustle, and you look up, scanning the forest.

Then you look at your watch.

1:07.

It can’t be. It’s just impossible.

That moment of hesitation, the few seconds you take to consider this is your fatal mistake.

The arrow whizzes. You are dead before you hit the ground. 

* * *

This time, you let the day play out perfectly, down to every last conversation and detail, just to see. The arrow hits you in the neck. 

* * *

 A strangled sort of sound leaves your mouth when you wake up, like you were trying to scream but decided not to just a second too late.

This isn’t happening.

There is no way in hell that this is happening.

But-

Maybe you’re dead and in hell.

Maybe you’re alive and in hell.

It doesn’t matter - regardless of anything you do or say, the day starts and ends the same.

Whatever this is, it is punishment. But at the same time, it might be a small mercy.

You don’t leave your room at all that day. No one comes to get you. 

* * *

A solution. That’s what you need. You need a solution.

You get out of bed, your mind remarkably clear. You put on your watch, get dressed in a sort of trance.

You skip breakfast, because you’re simply too nervous to eat. You think you might’ve figured out how to escape this, how to make it to tomorrow.

You stop thinking of this as a punishment - this is an enemy, this is someone you must defeat. This is another mountain, and you’re going to bring it down.

You even have enough hope to smile a little at your mother as you’re leaving the med bay, a confident spring in your step as you approach Raven and Wick.

“Hi, Clarke,” Wick says.

“Hey,” you say, then turn your head to Raven, still a little unsure of what to do around her.

“What’s up?” Raven asks.

This is the first time in the day when you feel a little apprehensive, because the point of your plan is to not repeat the day. But you suppose this is alright, because the only thing you need to change is where you are at 1:07 in the coming night.

“Nothing,” you say. “Just seeing how everything’s coming along.”

“You know what?” Raven asks, touching her shoulder. “Take a break today. I’ll take charge.”

“Okay,” you say, offering a small smile. “That sounds like a good idea.”

Raven smiles back, a tight-lipped one that doesn’t quite reach her eyes, but it’s a smile all the same.

**~**

The rest of the day passes as you make small talk with patients and talk to Jackson about everything and nothing in particular, but you start to feel a touch of panic as you find yourself alone, cleaning a syringe a few minutes past midnight.

Bellamy walks in. You waste no time with words as you make him sit down and unceremoniously pop his shoulder back into place.

“What’s up with you?” he asks.

“Nothing,” you say.

“And now you’re lying to me,” he mutters, looking away. “Just what I expected from _you.”_

You feel a sudden pain in your chest, and you turn to run out of the med bay.

**~**

You stare at the gates, eyes scanning the guards posted there.

_Don’t go._

You’re afraid you’ll run into Bellamy if you go back inside, but you do it anyway.

Your legs feel like they’re filled with lead, but you’re doing it. You’re going to wake up tomorrow and everything’s going to be fine.

You see him standing in the hallway, holding his arm.

He turns around when you reach your door, his mouth slightly open as if he wants to say something.

Looking him dead in the eye, you step into your room and shut your door.

After a long moment, you lock it.

**~**

You lie in bed, your breathing heavy and shaky, your wrist in front of your face.

It is 1:06.

And suddenly, you’re so scared that you want to scream until you yourself disintegrate, the dread and the fear swirling in your stomach and making you extremely nauseous. You tremble under your blankets, more afraid than you have ever been in your life, and that truly, _truly_ says something.

1:06.

1:06.

1:07.

You let out a choked whimper, hugging your knees to your chest and fighting to keep your eyes open.

Your fingers shake.

Everything is shaking - the room, your head, your body, _everything,_

_everything everything everything everything everything everything everything EVERYTHING_

1:08.

You exhale, tears spilling over your lashes as you lie back.

You finally fall asleep after your sobs recede.

* * *

You wake on your side, staring at the wall.

You sit up slowly, taking in your position and the watch on the nightstand.

_No._

_No_

_No_

_No_

_“No,”_ you say softly, reaching for your pillow. You clutch it so tightly that you can see the bones of your knuckles. “No!” you scream, chucking the pillow across the room. You slide out of bed and kick it, barely registering the searing pain in your toes. Your hands tremble with rage as you put on the watch.

You yank the door open, and it makes an unearthly banging noise against the wall it hits. You close it with an even louder bang causing Bellamy, who is walking down the corridor just a few feet away, to turn around.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his anger at her forgotten, and just godforsaken _concern._

“Am I okay?” you snap, still walking, standing right in front of him. “Do I fucking look okay?”

“Calm down,” he says, his tone slightly condescending, and your self-control evaporates as you shove him as hard as you can. He stumbles backward, confusion etched into his features.

“Don’t you fucking patronize me,” you snap, shoving him away when he tries to approach you. He tries again and this time he avoids you, grabbing an arm and holding it to your side. “Get the _hell_ out of my way, Bellamy.”

“Clarke, no. You need to stop and tell me what’s going on!” he implores.

“I’m not going to ask you again,” you say. “Let _go!”_

“I’m not letting you go!” he says.

You make the only logical choice - you reach up with your free hand and punch him as hard as you can in the jaw. He steps back, a brilliant bruise blooming on his face.

You walk past him without a look back.

**~**

You dimly realize that you need to calm down, so you go to the med bay, try to let the therapeutic sensation of organizing materials wash over you.

Your mother arrives and you want to scream.

“Did you take the night shift?” Abby asks, and you whirl around.

“Why does it still even _matter_ to you? Why does everything I do have to be your business?” you scream.

“Honey, I just want to know what you’re doing because I’m your mother,” Abby says, like she’s trying to pacify a very small child. You hate it.

“And that automatically gets you all the privileges?” you hiss. “Knowing what I do, what I eat, when I sleep, who I sleep with?”

Abby recoils from you. You are a monster.

Good.

 _“You_ floated Dad,” you say, stepping close to her, pointing your finger at her. “You betrayed us all.”

“Clarke,” Abby says. “You need to-”

“CALM DOWN?” you yell, sounding quite deranged to your own ears. You shove a box of empty syringes off the table. “YOU WANT ME TO CALM DOWN?”

She’s silent. You leave.

**~**

You walk right past the two top engineers, and you hope you look like you shouldn’t be bothered, but Wick obviously doesn’t get the message.

“Hi, Clarke,” he says, almost timidly.

“What do you want?” you snap.

“Hey, what the hell?” Raven asks. “What’s your problem?”

“Maybe it’s you, Raven!” you say, rounding on her immediately. “Maybe I just can’t do this with you anymore, let you hold your stupid grudges, live in your tragic and perfect brain! Maybe I’m sick of you being the helpless victim all the fucking time!”

“Clarke,” Wick says with concern, with an underlying warning tone.

“Shut up,” you say. “You’re only doing this because you want to sleep with her.

Raven punches you in the face. You shove her.

“Who the hell do you think you are, Clarke?” Raven screams. “God?”

You laugh, an insane, mirthless laugh. “God? Me?”

“Clarke, come on,” Wick says. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Whatever the hell I want,” you say, and then you laugh again, at the sickening irony of it. “Because guess what? None of this is going to matter. I can do whatever I want, and none of it is going to matter.”

Raven and Wick stare at you in stunned silence. You walk away.

You are right, you think, as you walk back into the metal prison of the Ark. This is never going to change. You’re going to live this day over and over, and you can just do anything and everything, and it’ll all reset, over and over.

“Clarke?” a soft voice asks. Niylah steps in front of you. “Are you alright?” She touches your face. “You’re hurt. It’s like you get hurt every day, honestly…”

“Every single day,” you say, and then you crush your lips into hers, dragging her into an empty supply closet and letting her make you fall to pieces once, twice, more and more and more and more and more and more and you don’t let her stop.

**~**

You end up back in the med bay at midnight. Bellamy walks in, accompanied by Octavia.

“Fix your own fucking shoulder,” you spit. Then you turn. “Is Octavia your personal bodyguard now? I thought she _hated_ you.”

Your words are savage and you feel no mercy, no regret, no remorse for the looks on their faces. Because it’s not going to matter. She could do this a million times over and it would never, ever matter.

“What’s going on with you today?” Octavia asks. “First Bellamy, then Raven.”

“You wanna go next?” you snap, stepping close to her.

“Clarke,” Bellamy says weakly.

“Maybe I do,” Octavia answers, and this is her flaw, her incapability to turn down a fight. “You’re angry? Take it all out on me. I’m angry, too. I get to take it out on you.”

“Stop it, Octavia,” Bellamy says.

“Take it out on your brother instead,” you whisper, your voice venomous. You stride out of the med bay and the Ark before she can get to you.

As it turns out, the Blakes are following you.

“You don’t get to do this to us, Clarke!” Bellamy calls as she walks towards the gates. “It isn’t fair to anyone!”

“Don’t you dare lecture me about what’s fair and what isn’t!” you scream at him when he reaches you. “You don’t have that right!”

“And you have the right to decide what my own rights are?” he asks. “Stop acting like a child, Clarke!”

You punch him in the nose this time. The cracking noise tells you that you broke it.

Octavia lunges at you, yanking your hair and slapping your face and punching you in the gut and screaming. The guards are all swarming around you three and eventually you just stop fighting it, and you let Octavia beat you into a bloody pulp until one of the larger guards forcefully pulls her off of you.

“Let’s get you to medical,” another guard says gruffly, grabbing your arm, but you twist it out of his grip and you run out of the gates. You hear footsteps following, but you don’t care. Not anymore. Not ever again.

“Clarke!” Bellamy yells. “Clarke, stop!”

You finally do, right at _that_ spot.

“It doesn’t matter,” you say automatically. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does,” he says softly, too soft towards the person who just broke his nose.

“You have no clue,” you say, backing away. “So don’t tell me that it matters.”

“I pulled the lever with you,” he argues weakly.

You look at your watch. 1:07.

“You don’t understand,” you say, and both your heads turn when you hear a rustle. “You don’t-”

“Move!” he yells, and he runs towards you, the whistle of an arrow in your ears, and it hits him square in the middle of his forehead.

After four seconds, you start to scream.

After nine, you faint. 

* * *

You don’t open your eyes, but you’re awake.

Did his death change it?

Are you going to have to live with your decisions because someone else took your place?

You open your eyes slowly, sighing in relief when you see the familiar wall of your room.

And then you start to cry, terrible, choking sobs that make you feel like your ribs are going to burst.

_Bellamy. Bellamy._

You dress quickly and race out of your room, straight towards the shadow making its way down the hall.

You bury your face in his neck, still crying, unable to stop.

“Clarke?” he asks in confusion, but his arms immediately lock you in his embrace. “What-?”

“I’m so sorry,” you say haltingly. “I’m so, so sorry.”

And you dissolve in his arms, shaking and holding him as tight as you can.

“I forgive you,” he murmurs into your hair. “I’m sorry, too.”

You feel terribly tired, but you tilt your head up to kiss him gently on the lips. He kisses you back, and you wonder if it tastes like salt because of your tears.

“I’m sorry,” you cry against his lips. “Please, Bellamy, I’m sorry.”

He bends down to kiss you again. “Why are you doing this?” he asks softly. Talking about the kiss.

“Because I’m done waiting,” you choke out. “We’re all gonna die in a few months anyway and I need you and I love you and I can’t _wait_ anymore.”

He will die. You won’t. Or maybe you already have.

“Wait,” Bellamy says, pulling away from you slightly and looking you in the eyes. “You… you love-”

You let out a breath through your teeth, looking down and realizing your mistake. “I - forget it.”

“No,” he says firmly, putting a finger under your chin and tilting your face up so it faces his. You close your eyes, the action making more tears fall. “Clarke, please look at me.”

You shake your head slightly.

“Please?” He touches a finger to your nose, cups your jaw.

You open your eyes.

“I love you, too,” he whispers, like it’s a secret. But this secret, it swallows you both. “I wanted to tell you - after you - after ALIE.”

You start crying again - you can’t help it. You collapse against his chest, because it truly hits you that this is never going to happen. It’s nothing more than a dream, an alternate reality, and tomorrow, or the next today, it will simply only be a distant memory, to you and you only.

“Can I just stay with you today?” you ask in a small voice.

“I wish you could, Clarke, but there’s work to be done,” he says, sounding infinitely apologetic. This, at least, you can understand.

“Okay,” you concede. “Can we at least eat breakfast together?”

He nods, touching his forehead to yours. “I love you,” he murmurs, his eyes slipping closed, his words a little cautious as if he’s testing them out in his mouth, like the words will make you disappear.

“And I love you,” you whisper back, kissing the dimple on his chin, then his cheek. “I love you.”

**~**

You walk into breakfast together, your hands clasped loosely at your sides. Bellamy keeps glancing down at you with a small, lopsided grin on his face, making you blush whenever your eyes meet. Miller and Jackson are sitting together, and they even smile at you two when you grab some food and join them.

“You guys did _it,_ didn’t you?” Miller asks without preamble.

“No,” you say.

“But they’re gonna do it anyway,” Jackson supplies, poking at his food.

“Why are you so smart, Jackson?” you ask, taking Bellamy’s hand under the table.

“I’m not smart,” he says with a blush. “But I’m not an _idiot,_ either.”

**~**

“Where are we going?” you ask, as Bellamy tugs you along, towards the gates. “I thought you said we had work to do.”

“Yeah, well, there’s really not going to be another time for a - you know,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck before requesting to open the gates,

“A you know?” you ask, smiling slightly at him.

“A - well, a date,” he says, the tips of his ears flaming red,

“Now, when did I agree to go on a date with you?” you ask with a smirk.

“See, I assumed that kiss was the unspoken agreement,” Bellamy replies, his voice equally cheeky. Then he sobers up. “Unless you don’t want to.”

You simply smile and gesture for him to lead the way.

**~**

“Damn,” you say, emerging from the water. “When did you find this?” you ask Bellamy, who is standing at the top of the small waterfall, standing tall.

“Back when we first landed,” he yells down towards you.

“Magic words,” you call. “Aren’t you cold?” you ask, staring at his bare chest.

He just chuckles slightly, and jumps, letting out a childish whoop before he disappears underwater.

He doesn’t surface for a long time.

Don’t be a cliche, Bellamy,” you say, rolling your eyes, and of course, you feel strong arms wrap around your shins and tug you down. After a second, you open your eyes underwater, and see Bellamy grinning at you. The water is beautifully clear, and it’s a shame that everything around it will soon be destroyed. It’s getting a little difficult to breathe, so you tug him in for a kiss.

Both of you surface at the same time with gasps of breath after your kiss, and then you both laugh. He reaches out and touches your bare shoulders, It is one of the warmer days, so you didn’t have too many qualms about taking your shirt off before jumping into the small spring.

“Clarke?” he asks softly.

“Yeah?” you answer.

He surges forward and kisses you, the kiss turning from soft to desperate in a few seconds. He slides his hands down your sides and grabs the backs of your thighs to pick you up, your legs immediately going around his waist. He kisses you and kisses you, and you let him.

**~**

You lazily trace his stomach on the edge of the lake before reaching behind you to redo the clasp of your bra.

“I don’t want to go back,” Bellamy complains, zipping up his pants and pulling on his shirt. He shakes the last few droplets of water out of his hair, and they hit you in the face. You laugh slightly, feeling a dull ache at the thought of tomorrow.

“I don’t either,” you admit.

This is your seventh time living this day, your sixth time reliving it. Tomorrow, it will have been a week.

How many days, weeks, months, years, will you be stuck?

“Work to be done,” Bellamy says, jolting you out of your reverie. It’s a feeble excuse, and he knows it, judging by the wry twist of his mouth. _And_ he’s mocking her.

“Yeah, well,” you say, pulling your own shirt onto your body and then reaching for your jacket. “I’m not wrong.”

“That’s a first,” Bellamy mutters.

“More like a second. A tenth. A trillionth.”

“You’ve made your point,” he says, rolling his eyes and kissing you on the forehead.

**~**

Both of you are smiling like an idiot when you arrive at the gates, a bit past sunset, but the sight of people working on the camp sends your mood plummeting, thoughts of Praimfaya and tomorrow _(today, today, today)_ invading your mind completely.

“You okay?” Bellamy asks, watching your smile evaporate.

“No,” you say truthfully, because what a damn waste it would be to lie to him on a day like this. “Doesn’t it get to you?” you ask after a while.

“What?” he replies. “The camp?”

“Everything,” you implore. “Mortality. Fate. Circumstance. Nuclear apocalypses.”

“Well, yeah,” Bellamy murmurs. “But all those things are inevitable and inescapable. Except hopefully the apocalypse. And mortality is, well. Mortality is kind of the basis of life.”

“That’s kind of an oxymoron,” you say softly.

“Life is just one big paradox, Clarke,” he says, scuffing his toe against the ground after they’re past the gates.

“Paradox,” you say absentmindedly. Then, suddenly; “I don’t want to die.”

He turns his head to you, fast.

“I mean, everyone probably thought I did,” you continue, hoping it doesn’t sound like meaningless existential babble. “Even me. But I don’t want to die. Not soon.”

It is not entirely true - you had wanted to die, perhaps, before today. But being stuck on the day of your death has split your soul wide open and opened your eyes to it.

“Yesterday, you told me you wanted to die,” he says, his voice a little guilty, a little hurt. You remember, with some difficulty, your fight with him all those days ago, and you _had_ told him that.

“That was a long time ago,” you say softly. “That was yesterday.”

**~**

You both decide not to work after having dinner - instead, Bellamy takes you to his room, and you two lie in bed together, talking about everything, your lives on the Ark, and even, with some tears shed by both of you, the Mountain and ALIE.

“Bellamy?” you ask, after a long, comfortable silence.

“Yeah, Clarke?”

“I love you so much.”

He hugs you so tight your ribs almost crack, but it’s not like you mind. “I love you, too.”

**~**

You lie awake long after he finally falls asleep, stroking his hair and feeling him breathe, his arm around your body.

You don’t want this day to end, ever.

It never does, you suppose. But this iteration of today, you don’t want it to end.

_You have tomorrow._

For the first time in seven days, the thought almost comforts you. You can start over again tomorrow, tell him you love him, have every first with him everyday.

But you suppose that wouldn’t be fair to anyone. Especially not to you.

_You have tomorrow._

You can figure it out tomorrow.

With a heavy heart, you close your eyes.

* * *

You think you finally understand what needs to be done the eighth time you open your eyes to this day.

This wasn’t hell, not purgatory. This had been an opportunity.

You are going to die. It is inevitable. And though you didn’t believe it would happen today, so fast, so soon, you know with absolute certainty that this truly is the day you die. The reiteration where you die.

And you also know, that you can at least go out the right way.

You were given an opportunity - by whom, by what, you don’t understand - but this is the opportunity for you to just do everything right, for just one day.

You get out of bed, put on your watch. You touch the face with gentle fingers, thinking of your mother.

You walk out with your back straight after you get ready for the day, and you just catch Bellamy walking down the hall. You should give him some space, instead of forcing all your emotions onto him like you did yesterday. So you make your way towards the med bay, organizing everything just the way Jackson and Abby like it.

Abby arrives when you finally finish, smiling at the sight of the clean room. “Did you take the night shift?” she asks you.

“No,” you say, with a small, nervous smile. “I’m just - I was wondering if I could help here today.”

“Jackson’s helping out for all of today,” your mother says.

“Yeah, well, it’s been such a long time since you and I - did anything together,” you say in a tiny voice, and the enormity of that one fact hits you.

“I didn’t think you still wanted to do anything,” Abby says, almost helplessly.

“You were wrong, then,” you reply with a small smile, and so, both of you get to work. Sometimes Abby reaches over and pushes your hair out of your eyes, gives you encouraging smiles when you treat the patients, motherly gestures you had no idea you missed so much until you were so aware you were going to lose it all.

**~**

It is on one of your breaks that you go outside and have a long, cathartic argument with Raven which results in the other girl hugging you so tight for so long that you almost die right there of suffocation. But it’s okay. For a brief moment, everything’s okay.

Now, you’re sitting on top of one of the structures with Raven, watching the sun descend towards the mountains. You haven’t seen Bellamy all day, and it worries you.

“Praimfaya,” Raven says, almost scoffing. “As if we haven’t had enough.”

“Arkadia will be ready,” you say. Raven looks at you skeptically, and you exhale, the breath coming out as a small laugh.

“Ever the optimist,” Raven says, nudging your shoulder with hers. “What would we do without you?”

“I’m pretty sure a lot of you would’ve been fine without me,” you mutter, leaning back and taking in the streaks of red and orange in the sky.

“Maybe yesterday,” Raven says. “But who’s gonna pick me first if you’re gone?”

You drop your head onto her shoulder, full-on grinning for the first time in a very long time.

**~**

“Jasper,” you say, calling after him, after you’ve eaten dinner. _“Jasper.”_

“What, Clarke?” he asks, after you say his name a few more times, sarcastic venom in his voice. “What do you want now?”

You make the least logical decision possible - you run forward and you hug him.

He struggles against you, shoving and punching, but eventually he just stops, and soon, you feel tears seep into your shirt, and _then,_ he hugs you back.

“I know I can never, ever make up for what I’ve done,” you say. There’s no ‘but.’

“Yeah, well, I can hold a grudge,” Jasper grudgingly admits.

“For a good reason,” you answer softly, pulling away, your hands still on his shoulders.

“I really miss you,” he says. “Who you used to be.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut.

“I’m still here,” you implore, giving a small shake. “I’m still here.”

“Then come back,” he pleads, and you realize only in that moment just how _young_ Jasper is.

You crash into him and hug him tighter, a brother you lost, the brother you could’ve had, the brother you’ll let yourself have for now, but the brother you can never keep.

**~**

Midnight in med bay.

The final stand.

Your last chance with Bellamy.

Of course, he comes with his dislocated shoulder.

“Are you okay?” you ask gently, walking over to him and touching his arm. He seems surprised at your gentleness. “What happened?”

“You want the list or the overview?” he asks, turning his face away. You cup his cheeks with both your hands.

“Hey,” you say softly. “Look at me.”

He does, leaning into your touch just a little.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, looking into his eyes, like tiny galaxies of emotion. “Do you believe me?”

His shoulders slump, as if all the fight goes out of him, and he sighs. “I believe you.”

“Do you forgive me?” you ask. After a long silence, you say, “It’s okay if you don’t, Bellamy. I understand.”

“I dislocated my shoulder,” he says tonelessly.

You pull away and grab his bad shoulder. “One. Two.”

You shove it back in, and he yelps.

“Better?” you ask, touching his arm, gently feeling his bones.

“Yeah.” He’s quiet for a moment. “How many times are you gonna keep saying sorry?”

“If I’m going to make up for _anything_ that I’ve done, this is an okay place to start,” you say, wrapping his arm in a bandage to keep it steady. You finish, and then you look back up at him. “You don’t have to forgive me now.”

“What if you can’t ever make up for what you’ve done?” he asks, and you can’t really read his tone.

“Then maybe I’m just a bad person,” you say, trying to keep your tears away.

“You’ve done bad things-”

“I know, okay!” you burst out, then cover your mouth. “I’m sorry,” you say in a panicked, muffled voice, and then you run out.

**~**

“Wait!” he screams after you. “Clarke, wait!”

You finally stop, turning around to face him. “Stop, Bellamy! Just go back!”

“I didn’t mean it, okay?” he says, running to you. He grabs your arm with the hand attached to his good arm. “I forgive you, and I know you can make up for it.”

“It’s not safe-!”

“Clarke, you need to understand-”

“Don’t say it to pacify me, Bellamy,” you say, looking up into his big brown eyes. “Don’t lie to me. Please.”

“But you would lie to me, Clarke!” he says, sounding like the words hurt him more than anything else could. “And how can I just believe it when you ask for my forgiveness, even though I willingly give it to you?”

“Because I love you!” you shout, grabbing his face. “I love you.”

“You…” he murmurs.

 _“Frag op Wanheda’s seken nau!”_ you hear someone say in the trees.

_Kill Wanheda’s second now._

You push Bellamy away from you and the arrow hits you right at the top of your heart.

You barely register the gunshots that follow. Bellamy, finishing off your killer.

You collapse into his arms, and he’s sobbing, screaming at you to come back. He _begs_ you to come back, tells you he’s sorry, _I love you, too, Clarke, please, please COME BACK COME BACK COME BACK COME BACK_

**~**

Dying, you realize, is beautiful.

Dying is like warmth spreading from your heart to the top of your head to the tips of your toes, a dark blanket that covers you and pulls you away from the cold. Dying is like honey slipping down your throat, like the loving caress of a gentle breeze across your face.

Dying is the sweetest surrender, and you can’t entirely understand why you feared it.

There is a gentle tug at your body, your mind, like someone is beckoning you towards them, inviting you to come home.

Dying is beautiful.

**~**

You are in his arms, but not. You’re standing next to him, watching him cradle your body to his chest, crying and crying. You bend down and stare into your own face. Part of you still feels the weight of his arms around you, the breath, the life, seeping out of your lungs.

“You saved me,” he tells you, over and over, brushing your hair away from your face. “Why would you save me?”

 _No,_ you think, as you turn around and walk into the dark woods. _You saved me._

**Author's Note:**

> writing this actually made me cry  
> comments and kudos are welcome!


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